


1776

by pepperlandgirl4



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-21
Updated: 2011-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-22 21:33:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pepperlandgirl4/pseuds/pepperlandgirl4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Challenge 3: AUs</p>
            </blockquote>





	1776

**1776**  
The steady musket fire stopped an hour after dusk, creating the illusion of peace and quiet. Merlin was determined to enjoy it while he could, and he carried his pack away from the fire and the company, secluding himself near a shallow creek. His dinner consisted of two sour apples and a half canteen of water--a veritable feast. The General promised supplies were on their way, that the fighting would stop soon, that Congress would give them the means to win this impossible war. Merlin would believe that when he saw it. The British had more guns, more supplies, more men, more power.

A sound caught Merlin’s attention, the snap of leafs and twigs beneath a heavy tread. “Who goes there?”

He waited, one hand on his musket, the other still gripping an apple. His stomach cramped around the little green apple he just finished, but he ignored the fresh pain in his gut, attention locked on the rustling underbrush.

“Identify yourself or I’ll shoot.”

“I’m unarmed.”

“Then show yourself.”

A redcoat emerged from the deep shadows, his hands raised over his head. He wasn’t an officer, but Merlin still recognized his aristocratic look. Merlin itched to punch that smug face and break his perfect nose. “Please, I mean no harm.”

“What are you doing here then?”

“I was injured yesterday during the fighting. See?” He gestured at his thigh, which was dark with blood and dirt. “I was only searching for water.”

“By yourself?”

“I was left for dead. Please. May I have a drink?”

He should shoot him. Put him out of his misery, take his boots and his ammunition, and return them to General Washington. Only the boy looked to be about his age, and he clearly wasn’t any danger. He could barely walk.

“Help yourself. I don’t own the water around here.”

“Sneaking away to have your supper?” The man asked as he lowered himself to the shallow stream.

“Something like that. Your men are just over that ridge to the north. You could join up with them.”

He buried his face in the water and when he lifted his head again, the dirt was gone and his blond hair hung in wet strands around his cheeks. “I’ll give you a penny for that apple.”

“It’s not for sale.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not for sale, either.”

He looked up, cheeks flushed and eyes shining. “Everybody has a price.”

“What’s the price of your soul?”

“One kiss from your lips.” He straightened slowly and held up his hands. “No tricks, I promise.”

“That’s what you told me last time. Do you think I’m stupid enough to buy the same lie twice?”

Arthur smiled at that. “I’ve missed you. I’ve been looking for you. On the battlefields.”

Merlin swallowed. “I’ve been looking for you, too. When I heard…why are you fighting for fat George?”

“My father.”

“It’s time to stand up to your father. Didn’t you notice?”

“What do you think I’m doing marching around behind enemy lines? I risked getting myself killed coming for you, Merlin, and now that I’ve found you, I’m not letting you go again.”

“You’re…you’re choosing me over your father? Your king? You’re going to lose everything.”

Arthur peeled his red coat off, then his boots and his pants. The injury on his thigh wasn’t as bad as Merlin expected, but he wasn’t expecting Arthur too look so gaunt. Starved. He used to be sleek and strong, well fed on Uther Pendragon’s annual salary from the king as Royal Governor of New Hampshire.

“I lost everything when you went off to fight, Merlin. Now I’m trying to prove myself worthy to win it back.”

Merlin held out his arms, waiting for Arthur to step forward and fill them, fill the hollow place in his chest. “I’ll accept your soul.”

Arthur embraced him, claimed Merlin’s mouth, took everything from him. The horrors Merlin experienced since his enlistment fell away, and he forgot the pain of a sharply broken heart, fractured like a leg after a drunken fall from a horse. In Arthur’s kiss, he heard every apology, accepted them, believed them. In Arthur’s kiss, there was no loyal subject, no rebel soldier, no politics or independence.

There was only the promise of a future they could both fight for but never touch.


End file.
